


Born to Run, a side story, or: Studies of Gypsies and their Saviors, Two.

by dollylux



Series: Born to Run [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Homelessness, M/M, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:31:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/pseuds/dollylux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas, and Iker doesn't know where Sergio is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Born to Run, a side story, or: Studies of Gypsies and their Saviors, Two.

**Author's Note:**

> Occurs before the events written in Born to Run.

When the knock sounds on Iker's door, he walks toward it like he's been expecting it. He opens the it and is face-to-face immediately with a shivering, weak Sergio, one who has gone one too many days without sleep, without eating, without a single touch. The rain spills in sheets behind him and over the cars in the parking lot of Iker's apartment building. Iker looks him over with immediate concern, as if a flick of his worried eyes could diagnose him. He can hear Sergio's teeth chattering and it sends him immediately into action. He steps back from the doorway and spreads the door the rest of the way open, beckoning him in wordlessly. Sergio folds his arms over his chest and curls down over himself, eyes averted in deeply embarrassed apology. He steps in gratefully, too weak to argue, to offer up any excuses but Iker didn't need them anymore; he'd already been through this a number of times. They both know the drill.

Iker sets about stripping him, removing layer after layer from his body, the coat and then the hoodie and one shirt and then the other, all of them tattered, stained, ungodly soft with constant wear and soaking wet from a week's worth of rain. Sergio's mouth is pale, alarmingly so, a slightly bluish tint to such a normally rose colored mouth, his face pale, gaunt. Iker searches his eyes as he works on his belt, pushing at his pants and realizing that he doesn't even need to unbutton them to get them off his thin hips. Sergio pushes in against him the second he's free of every stitch of wet clothes, of his ancient boots, he crowds in against him and begs for his warmth, for his body heat and his affection and he can't even draw a breath to get out the please, the _please please please I'm so sorry._

"Shh, it's okay. Come here, lay down. Are you hungry?"

Sergio manages a nod, finally shifting out of survival mode and his body is shutting down quickly now, sent into fitful shaking and his fingers are clasped frantically to Iker's. Iker burrows his mouth against them and tries to kiss heat into Sergio's skin as he walks him back into his dim bedroom, to his soft bed, to all those layers of blankets. He helps him lie down carefully, smoothing his hands over Sergio and god his skin is ice cold and Iker is getting more and more concerned by the second. He pushes the blankets up around him and covers him up to his nose, rubbing his hands hard over his body now through the blankets, warming him up as best as he can. Sergio hides his nose against the blankets and lets his breath wash over it and he rubs his nose there to try and get some feeling back in it, anywhere. Once he's not shaking quite so violently, Iker steps away from him, hovering worriedly in the doorway before hurrying into the kitchen, banging and clanking and cursing around it before he finds a can of chicken noodle soup, one that is dented and dusty but it's canned soup, it's immortal and so he pours it into a bowl and adds water for more broth and shoves it into the microwave. He pours Sergio the rest of his orange juice and tosses the bottle away just as the soup announces that it's ready. He hurries both offerings back to the bedroom and places them on the bedside table, digging his fingers into Sergio's hair and kissing across his forehead because it's the only part of him he can see.

"Will you sit up and eat? Just a little?"

He sees the covers move and assumes it's a nod. Iker digs through the pile of clothes near the bed and comes up with a sweatshirt with Princeton's name emblazoned on the front and a pair of pajama pants that look small enough to fit Sergio. He dresses him quickly and Sergio is sitting up, hands hidden beneath the sleeves, toes curled down into the warming mattress. He looks lost, helpless, starved. Iker has to rip his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from telling him so many things, namely that he loves him.

Sergio doesn't take his eyes off of Iker as he's fed the hot soup, as he sips at the orange juice that burns down his sore throat. He gradually stops shivering, starts feeling like a person again. When the soup's all gone and when Iker has put socks on Sergio's dirty but bare feet and joined him in the bed, Sergio finally clears his throat in his first attempt to speak in days.

"Mm." He blushes, eyes averted, digging up the courage to try again. Iker keeps petting his hair, having given up on trying to rid it of tangles long ago and now simply strokes the dreadlocks there, squeezes them in his fingers, trails over the tiny scraps of fabric tied deep in that soft brown jungle. He kisses the hook of Sergio's nose to comfort him. "M-Merry. Christmas."

Iker smiles finally, his eyes warming and the light shines from them straight into Sergio's heart. His stomach stops trembling and fills with warmth. Iker kisses his mouth finally, tasting the soup and the juice on such chapped, raw lips but at least the color had come back to them, that beautiful, beautiful color.

"Merry Christmas, Sergio."

 

\--

 

It takes them practically a full day to rouse themselves from the bed, a full day for Iker to bring Sergio as much bread and pasta and soda as he can fit in his little stomach, a full day for Sergio to be able to stand up again and as soon as he can he's in the bath, soaking in tubful after tubful of scorching water (heat heat, Sergio only likes heat) until he's soft and clean all over and his fingers are pruny like they used to get when he was little and he played with his Transformers a little too long in the bath. He loves the scent of body wash, of soap, of shampoo, the feel of steam on his skin, of thick lotions and oils, of feeling soft soft soft here against Iker. They're warm and in bed again, both of them clean and used to each other now, both of them naked and they start the dance slowly, just eye gazing now (so much better than stars, Sergio tells him), just fingers in hair and over jaws and down necks and the slowest, laziest of blinks, all the motions circular and drawing them into a dreamy web of it, of silken skin and breath on faces and the earthy colors and scents of each other. Sergio's eyes are fire again, an earthen fire, flames licking into ancient trees and he's warm and well and in love with the man in front of him. His fingers take on intent on Iker's cheek, trickling over the stubble there and his thumb catches on Iker's bottom lip, stroking even more color into it. Iker just gazes at him, mouth parted in softness and with the enchantment Sergio makes him feel, always, always makes him feel. Sergio is closer somehow now and breathing over his mouth and Iker's heartbeat quickens for the wisdom in those eyes, the slow burn of absolute, smoldering passion.

"With chaste heart, and pure eyes, I celebrate you, my beauty, restraining my blood so that the line surges and follows your contour, and you bed yourself in my verse, as in woodland, or wave-spume: earth's perfume, sea's music."

Iker's eyes laze as he listens to him, the deep rumble of Sergio's voice sending a slow roll of pleasure through him, climaxing from his spine up and he's burning up now, he's breathing audibly and Sergio's fingers quicken quicken but don't speed up at all, just press in with more intensity, more meaning. He almost doesn't feel as Sergio digs against him, turning Iker until he's on his back and then until he's sitting back against the headboard and he's powerless under him, he's rendered absolutely helpless under Sergio's spell. He simply watches as Sergio spreads himself around his pale legs, as he reaches back for Iker's cock that is almost shamefully hard (from words, from ghost touches and words) and feeds it into himself, his body yielding gracefully to lick him up inch by inch until he's buried. Iker sucks in a long, almost overwhelmed breath, the world going from grey with concrete and rain and winter and loneliness to something beyond color, to synesthesia where he can taste the red of Sergio's breath and it tastes like cinnamon, where he can see the erotic roll of Sergio's body in waves of opal all around him, and he can hear Sergio's grip on his dick, can hear the trap, the intake, the capture and it sounds like rushes of wind in a place more free than he'd ever known. He rests his head back against the headboard and spreads his feeble hands over Sergio's hips and moans and it feels horribly inadequate.

"I'm hungry for you." Sergio says this simply, as simply as saying "I love you" and he frames Iker's face with his tendering hands and kisses him and Iker's guts clench up and he tries to kiss him back with the amount of emotion he's feeling. Sergio keeps his gaze as he starts to move on him, riding Iker in a slow roll of his hips and my god it feels like magic, it feels like he's high and that all of his senses are peaked and every single one of them are completely overtaken by Sergio, by SergioSergioSergio. Iker moves his hands up to spread over Sergio's ass and he moans even louder because it's utterly soft, it's lotioned and smooth and the color of honey caramel and it's two moons in his eager palms and his fingers quest between them to marvel at how Sergio is spread around him, is split in two by his dick, that he's letting him be god right _there_ at all. Sergio nods gently for Iker's reactions as he works him in and out with deep, sucking pulls on his dick. Iker's hands grow desperate on him and he cannot help how worshipfully he's looking up at him now, at how he's kissing so reverently at Sergio's fingers and that soft little mouth.

"How do I feel? Am I warm enough for you?" Iker trembles for his words and he's almost afraid of how viscerally he reacts to them. His eyes flutter and Sergio strokes his lashes. His mouth quivers and it's kissed. His dick is being worked into burning, suffocating bliss. He nods and he stares intently into Sergio's eyes, trying to show him that he deserves this, trying to hold onto him with what he feels like are strong hands, trying to embrace him with what he's always thought of as sturdy arms, man's arms but Sergio turns him all to liquid, melts him down to the sum of his parts. He nods and nods and moans and he's kissed, licked into, fed.

"Yeah? Iker, this fills me up so much. Can't you feel it? All over? Does this just burn you up and make you feel like you're going to overflow? Like you're on fire?" Sergio is panting now and his words are coming out as soft, breathy things and his body does feel like it's on fire and Iker cannot stop nodding as he feasts on him, tasting him on his neck and across his collarbones and the lines and dips of his shoulders and Sergio accepts it like the offerings they are, exchanges them for a faster movement of his hips and he's rolling them now, keeping Iker in and letting his muscles do the work, the power of his hips and Iker holds onto him like Sergio is going to fly away, fingers eating into searing, flushed skin. He tries to lift up and give something to this but Sergio doesn't let him move, he keeps him pressed into the haven of this bed (their bed, at least now, right now) and he fucks himself on him and he reaches down for one of Iker's hands, prying it from its grip on the fleshiest part of his hip and guiding it down to his dick and god how he arches then, giving his first true cry and it's an aching sound, it's a warning as he comes into Iker's awed grip on his dick and his body constricts around Iker until he feels so much pressure on his dick that he can only sob as he comes, Sergio's arms wrapped around him like he's a newborn and that sweet, sweet mouth kisses his own and licks up his sounds and those hips roll and quake until Iker is immobile under him, his body still ebbing tiredly with emotion. He finally kisses Sergio again and he sighs in amazement but Sergio only tastes love.


End file.
